Toy Truck
by AgentOfAngst
Summary: Louie doesn't always go on his brother's adventures. Sometimes he stays at home and reflects.


**Louie hasn't been in an episode since Nothing can stop Della Duck! And so I wanted to write a little story about my favorite triplet and what he might've been up to since then... Which knowing Louie, could have very well been nothing... Or maybe not. :)** **Sort of sequel-esque to my other Ducktales stories.**

**Enjoy!**

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Louie spun the wheels on his toy truck and then let it drop to the floor. He'd had that truck for forever, it had been some birthday or Christmas gift from Uncle Donald. It was old and ordinary but it was one of the only toys between the three of them that was definitely his. Everything else had been shared and squabbled over, but this one belonged to him and only him. And that was pretty significant.

Really, he'd always shared everything with his brothers. That's why he had big dreams about being a billionaire and having whatever he liked, without having to share. But money couldn't buy a mom who he didn't have to share with his brothers. He was still shaky and unsure about it all. He'd never had a mom before and getting used to it was _hard_. It was easier to stay in bed and consider the life he used to have.

His brothers were off who knows where doing who knows what, so he was alone in the room, moping in his bed. He hung his arm idly off the bed to see if he could grab the truck off the floor without getting out from under his comforter. He spun the wheels again and thought about when he was given this truck. He couldn't remember the exact date or reason for the gift, but he remembered how his uncle had presented it, with this tired look of worry that Louie wouldn't like the toy for one reason or another. He knew he could sound ungrateful or greedy sometimes, but he also knew he had immediately loved the toy and displayed his joy prominently. He spun the wheels again, incredibly grateful for everything Uncle Donald had done for them. Uncle Donald had sacrificed ten years of his life and so much more for Louie and his brothers. Uncle Donald had done everything for them.

Della had been working their whole lives to get back to them, sure, but as for being here, being present, she didn't win any prizes. Uncle Donald had always been there and Della had never been there. To the point where he had a really hard time calling her mom instead of Della.

"Louie, your Uncle Scrooge bid me remind you that in this family we don't," Mrs. Beakley checked her notes, "wallow, and so you can't spend all day in bed. Unless you're ill." She seemingly added that last bit from her own experience as a granny.

"Fine." He grumbled, sliding from the bed.

"Thank you." He dropped the truck on the bed and grabbed a separate set of wheels. He hadn't skated very much since the first time he tried, but he was getting a little better, and since his brothers were away from the house right now, he used this time to practice without their scrutiny. He skated around for a bit, fell a lot, and was on his way back to his room, having fulfilled the not spending _all_ day in bed, when he ran into Della. _Not Della, Mom._

"Hey, Rebel- I mean Louie. Are you okay? You look a bit scraped up." He cringed in embarrassment.

"I'm fine," He muttered, just wanting to flop down on the bed, spin the wheels of his truck, watch Ottoman Empire, or whatever. He gave her a fake but convincing smile, since that's what he did best, and moved past her.

Della Duck was undeterred, however. She followed behind him, interrogating as they walked.

"How'd you get so scuffed up?" He had to hand it to her, Uncle Donald would have asked the same things. After he had disinfected every minor scrape and slapped more band-aids than necessary on him. He hated to compare parenting styles, but he was having a hard time ignoring the differences.

"Skating." One word answers were always safe.

"Ah, I used to skate. Your uncle was _terrible_ at it." Louie had no doubt Uncle Donald was terrible at skating, but he still took offense to her comment. He took a second to calm down and continued his solemn trek to his room.

"You know, I haven't really gotten to spend a lot of time with you, Louie. Get to know your likes and dislikes and your interests. I thought maybe we could try to change that." She'd rested a hand on his shoulder, slowing him down. He looked down and sighed.

He needed to give her a fair, unbiased chance. But the effort that required was more than the effort he was able to give. He spent so much time trying, so much time acting like more than he was. And now Della wanted him to try to be her son.

"I'm trying," he whispered.

"I can look at those scrapes for you," she offered, clearly trying too.

"Thanks, mom." He gave her another smile, but it was more real, more tired.

"I know I haven't been here, I know I missed your first steps and your first word and your first adventure and everything. But I love you, Louie. And I want to be your mom. More than anything in the world, I want to be your mom." Louie was quiet for a bit, thinking.

"It was shiny."

"Huh?"

"My first word was shiny."

"So do you like treasure hunting?"She grinned, feeling like she was getting somewhere with her most enigmatic and distant son.

"Treasure yes, hunting no... Do you want to see something?"

"Yes!" She said, too quickly and too loudly and far too enthusiastically. He was letting her into his life, slowly but surely. And if this little glimpse was all she got for now, so be it, she would never give up on Louie.

He led her into his room and climbed on top of his dresser, taking out all the shirts in the top drawer and then pulling out a false bottom.

"Sneaky," she applauded, "and impressive."

"This is the official Louie Duck top-secret collection of shiny weapons," he said, with a twinge of pride. Aside from the toy truck, these were the other things that were his alone. It was a small but growing collection of things that he personally had smuggled from adventures. The cooler looking the better.

"So, you collect weapons?"

"Yeah, no one knows about it because someone might take it away. But every now and then I get to snag a souvenir, and the peril almost feels worth it. I kinda have a bit of bad luck," he admitted.

"I've found that the best people aren't always the luckiest." She said, helping him put the drawer back together.

"Your secret is safe with me kiddo."

"Thanks, mom."

"You seemed tired earlier, I'll leave you alone." She hugged him real quick and then turned to leave. He picked the truck off the ground and spun the wheels, smiling. As she left, Della was smiling too.


End file.
